Remember You
by Angel LeeAnn
Summary: FINISHED! HIS POV: I lied. I do miss you. And I know you'll never come back. HER POV: I simply turned away...But I looked back...I still look back.
1. Roxton's POV Prologue

Title: Remember You

Author: Angel LeeAnn

Rating: PG

Summary:  Years after finding their way off the plateau, Roxton wanders the streets of London while thinking of the woman (Marguerite) who'd stolen his heart.

Disclaimer:  I borrowed Roxton and Marguerite.  They do NOT belong to me.

**NOTE**: This so far is – I think – my best fanfic.  So, if requested, I would gladly add onto the story.  Yet, it works perfectly as a stand alone, so I may leave it has it is if people like the ending.

THE STORY:  (Epilogue?)

When I'm walking these deserted streets, I count my steps as I drag my feet.  The moonlight shines from its royal perch high in the dark, cloudless sky.  It's moments like these – right out of the blue – that I remember you.  Not that I could ever forget you.  No, you're always hovering somewhere nearby, but I usually deny you passage into my thoughts.

You see; you broke my heart.

Don't worry, though, because I'm healed now.  I don't lie awake at night anymore agonizing over you.  I have learned how to move on.  And now we're far apart.  In fact, for all I know, the seven seas and the stars of Heaven separate us.  I suppose it's better this way because if I were ever to bump into you then I may lose the control I've so carefully built around my tears.  It's not that I miss you: not tonight.  Not anymore.  But the tears would be more of a baptism: washing away the years of pain I know I would see reflecting from your eyes, the mirror image of my own pain.

I don't blame you for never writing.  And I hope you've never been hurt by not receiving a call.  I am curious, though.  Do you still have dreams?  Did they all come true?  Does it ever seem that you'll never survive?  Do you ever miss me the way I do when I remember you?

I round the corner just as the light mist of rain begins to chime against my hand crafted cane.  My limp is hardly noticeable these days for my posture is stiff and I shuffle my feet instead of taking regular steps.  My cane and I have fallen into a steady rhythm: click, swish, click, swish, click, swish…  

I think you would be proud of me.  I've faced my demons and cast away my ghosts.  I've given up the past (if you can believe that).  I'm no longer controlled by guilt or the anguish of what could've been.

Yet, still…

I pause halfway across the cobblestone road.  Slowly, ever so slowly, I turn and follow the streetlamps further and further away from town.  There's only one place I want to be.  I eventually reach the beach and kick off my shoes, my toes sinking into the cool, damp sand.

At the edge, the waves gently roll up over my ankles and then slide back.  I gaze out through the darkness, over the ocean that had taken you away.  It's been ten long years, but I still remember every curve and line of your face.  I'd asked you to stay, knowing you wouldn't.  I remember how you'd touched your soft hand to my face; your eyes glazed with unshed tears.  You'd whispered 'I'll remember' and then boarded the ship, vanishing from my life as though you never existed as more than a phantom in a dream. 

I close my eyes as I bow my head.  I lied.  I do miss you.  There's an ache seeded in my soul where you had once been.  Will you ever return?  Do you even miss these arms?  Ever subconsciously place your fingertips to your lips, remembering the feel of my kisses?

No.  You'd come crashing into my life, enchanted me under your spell, and then slipped away on breeze.  And I know you'll never come back.  

A desolate tear glides down, disappearing into the sea of raindrops.  I drop my cane and wade further away from shore.

I duck my head under the waves and the last thing I remember is you.

END STORY

Or is it?     


	2. Marguerite's POV Prologue

**Taya**:  They _are_ the perfect match!  No arguments here.  Those two stubborn people belong together.  Yet, I was aiming for bleakness.  I'm glad it worked!

**MMJ**:  _winces_ Yeah, he was killing himself.  DON'T SHOT!

**Sierra**:  Does this mean I'm forgiven?  _hopeful smile_

**Amy**:  Gee, that cough sounds kind of like a hint.  Lol.  I'll see what I can do, but no promises.

**Panda**:  You're wish is my command!  (This time, anyway.  Lol).

**KDC**:  "I think you should do one for Marguerite, too."  Well, my friend, this one is for you!

**Fab**:  You know, quite a few reviewers have taken note to mentioning "a happy ending" to me.  Lol.  Anyway, no, the cane isn't from age.  And, yes, he was killing himself.  Thanks for the kind review!

**E1stwin**:  Thank you very much.  Now, say, where have you been lately?  I haven't seen you around on the board.  Is everything ok?

**A. Windsor**:  I know.  How could I have done that to the adorable man?  _shakes head sadly_     

**NOTE**:  Well, the reviewers have spoken!  Here's a second installment:

Marguerite's POV:

I sailed away into a gray sky morning, watching as your forlorn figure drifted further and further away.  Well, that's not quite right.  I was the one drifting away: the cruise liner heading off towards the horizon, stealing me away from you.  

No.  It wasn't the ship's fault.  _I_ abandoned you.  I left you feeling deserted and rejected, your eyes laced with heart-wrenching anguish even as you slowly lifted up your arm to give a tender, final farewell.  I cried then.  I cried when I saw your hand give that small, dismal wave.

I know you cried, too.  I saw your knees give out as you sank to the ground, dropping your cane as you brought your hands up to cover your tear-stricken cheeks.  It tore my heart apart.  I nearly leapt over the side, intend on swimming against the current…back to you.  Yet, I've never been one controlled by emotions.  So, I simply turned away…

But I did look back…

I still look back.

I sit on the shores of the beach gazing out over the rolling waves of whatever current ocean, sea, or lake I'm nearby; and think of you.  You see, I've kept my promise: I remember.  I remember how it was and who we were.  And then I watch as my tears join the river of regret.

You stole my world.  And now I'm just an imposter.  I pretend my way through life.  I guess I always have.  Yet, you saw through the mask of deception, ridicule, and malicious manipulation.  You saw into my heart; the heart I shielded from the world; the heart no one knew was there, hidden beneath my callous fascia; the heart you eventually snuck in and captured in your warm embrace.

None of that matters now, though.  Ten long years changes a person.  Yet, I suppose, it doesn't necessarily change one's soul.  For I still am who I am, though, different.  Does that make sense?

I rise myself to my feet, dusting off the sand that has clung to my skirt.  I take one final, longing stare at the waves and then turn and walk away.  

I always walk away.

END Marguerite's POV  

More?


	3. Chapter One

**Keys**:  Well, if it'll make your day…_big smile_

**ChosenOne**:  You're not reading anything wrong, my friend.  I just haven't explained his cane, yet.

**Barbie**:  Questions that'll all be answered in due time.  Thanks for the review!

**KDC**:  It's _me_ who should be thanking _you_ for bothering to even read them let alone leave reviews.  So…THANK YOU!

**Taya**:  Should I hand out the Prozac?  Seriously, I'm glad to hear that you're so touched by the story.  I wanted it to be kind of sad.

**Clux**:  Please don't be jealous of me.  I don't have the talent that so many of you do.  However, I really appreciate the review/compliments.  And you must be the tenth person to have mentioned a "happy ending" to me.  Lol.

**Babs**:  **hint** You're not reading too deeply.  **hint**

**Panda**:  True?  You don't see them ending up together once they make it off the plateau?

**Amy**:  We'll see, won't we?  Maybe I can work it into the story.  It seems to be what everyone wants.  Lol.  No surprise there (Roxton and Marguerite belong together).  Anyway, thank you for the sweet compliment.  I've never written anything like this before.  I'm glad you're enjoying it.

**Fab**:  I'm thrilled that you're enjoying this so far.  You're one of the reviewers I tend to look for acceptance from.  Lol.  I don't know why.  I just really value your opinion along with a few others (who, I believe, know who they are).

**Alex**:  Well I'm glad to hear that!  Thank you so much, but you may change your mind as the story progresses.  Things aren't going to be all peaches and roses.  Lol.

**Windsor**:  But she wouldn't be Marguerite if she weren't stubborn.  Lol.  What a frustrating woman.

~ ~ ~ **Ten Years Earlier** ~ ~ ~

Chapter One

Roxton's POV:

Polishing my weapons – they always need a good cleaning, especially after being dropped in mud, thrown off cliffs, and handled by a particular beautiful heiress – I glance around the makeshift living room at my fellow comrades and realize with a sinking heart that Marguerite is still on her "date" with that tribal chief from the southwest village of Tunashi.  What's his name?  Dick?  Damn Bloke?  Bloody Bastard?  Who knows and who cares?  She's only spending the evening with him in order to manipulate her way into getting the damn map that could lead us all home.

That doesn't mean that I have to like it.

Grumbling obscenities under my breath, I slam one of the pistols down harder on the wood table than needs be, drawing the attention of Malone.  Challenger had already escaped down into his laboratory, leaving the young man behind to deal with me.  The poor lad.  He got stuck babysitting me.  He must've drawn the short stick.

I chuckle at the thought of them debating who should keep me in check.  I pick up one of the rifles and thrust the wire wrapped in cloth down the barrel.  "Penny for your thoughts, Malone?"

The journalist frowns, seemingly unimpressed with my attempts to remain levelheaded.  He finally sighs and stands up, strolling over towards me with his patented look of serenity and depth.  "You know, Roxton," he says in his deep, soft voice.  "You're not fooling anyone."

"I never said I was trying to," I answer honestly, puckering my lips as I examine the trigger.  It's jammed.  It probably happened when Marguerite slammed it into the rocks.  "I just don't think it was wise to allow her to go alone, that's all.  We don't know if we can trust these people."

Malone rolls his eyes – a habit he's picked up from the women – and takes a seat opposite of mine.  "Roxton, she's not alone.  Veronica and Finn followed them, remember?"

"I still think I should've gone," I retort, jimmying with the trigger.

Malone snorts.  "Yeah, sure.  You couldn't have handled it.  Derico would give her one funny look and you'd go busting in with guns firing."

Derico.  So that's his name.  I was close enough.

I finally get the trigger to pop out and I relish in the brief moment of triumph before leaning back into my seat and giving Malone an innocent grin.  "I would do no such thing."

Malone laughs, shaking his head.  "Sure, Roxton, if you say so."

Yeah, it doesn't take a genius to know that I'm madly in love with our frustrating tree house member.  At first I was infatuated with her dark beauty and savvy skills.  I'll admit that it was lust that drove me wild at first, but that's all changed now.  Marguerite Krux has become my heart and soul.  She infuriates me and soothes me all in a single raised eyebrow.  She's brilliant, inventive, stubborn, irritating, powerful, and fragile all at once.  I've even offered my life to Death in order to spare Marguerite.  

I love her.

Now if only I could convince her.

End Chapter One

Thoughts?  Shall I continue? 


	4. Chapter Two

**Windsor**: Going as fast as I can!  Thanks for the review!

**Panda**:  I get what you're saying.  And I totally agree.

**Barbie**:  When the thought entered my mind, I knew I just had to use it!  Lol.  I'm glad you're enjoying it!

**Taya**:  I thought the names were funny, too.  Anyway, she's only going out with the man in order to get the map.  It doesn't mean anything.  Yet, I do think that Roxton would still be jealous over it (hence why he was calling him names.  Lol.).

**Amy**:  Mulder and Scully used to be my favorite, but now I think Roxton and Marguerite are.  They are just so fun to play with!  Lol.

**Sierra**:  Lol.  Ok, ok, you're right.  I think I've got some of you hooked now.  I think it's safe to say I should continue it.  Lol.

**E1stwin**:  A jealous Roxton is a cutie!  Now, where's your next chapter?  Do I have to come over there and pry it out of you?  _taps foot impatiently_

**ChosenOne**:  _laughing and shaking my head_ Darling, you crack me up.  You're reviews are always a wonder to behold.  Lol.  Seriously, though, thank you SO much.  I'm thrilled you're enjoying it.  And I would just like to add: **YOU HEAR THAT EVERYONE?  I AM A GENIUS!  **Lol.  Then again, I'm basing this off of something _you_ said.  Lol.  (I'm only teasing.  You know I luv ya.).

**Fab**:  Don't fret, my friend, your questions will be answered in due time! As always, thank you for the review!

**KDC**:  _shakes head and mumbles_ Roxton.  _tsk, tsk_  Anyway, thank you so much for the review.

NOTE: I'm writing this at 6:00 in the morning after going the ENTIRE night without any sleep.  So sorry if there are a million errors.

Marguerite's POV

Chapter Two

I stifle a snicker as I return home, Veronica and Finn trailing behind me, to find Roxton sprawled out – what looks to be uncomfortably – on the balcony's bench, fully dressed and with his rifle resting beside him.  I motion for the other two women to leave me in peace with the adorable hunter and they bid to my wish, smiling knowingly as they disappear to their rooms.

I stroll up beside him, taking an unusual moment to gaze openly at his features.  He is an attractive man with his dark hair, tanned complexion, well defined bone structure, and – when awake – his murky, ocean green eyes that at times appear dusted with cinnamon or glazed with dark sapphires.  He has eyes that a woman can only dream about.  They're dark and yawning, filled with so much emotion and enchantment.  They're so mesmerizing that at times I forget to breath, lost in the swirling, shifting colors and endless depths.

Of course, I will never mention this to a single soul.  And there's no reason to ever indulge him.  For it will never be.

My hand instinctively goes to the map in my skirt's pocket.  I crumble it in my hand, fearing what it represents.  For nearly the first three years we were trapped on this God forsaken plateau, I had wanted nothing more than to return to civilization.  It was my one track-goal and damn anyone who stood in my way.  And then something happened.  Something that changed everything.

I fell in love.  

And I began to see this world for what it was: paradise.  It was just me and him and an exotic jungle where our hearts were free to run wild.  And, yet…

I crouch down beside him, tenderly grazing the back of my hand along his five o'clock shadow.  What I desire more than anything in the universe is to cradle him to me and never let him go.  Yet, I know I can't.  Maybe if we were different people.  Or if we were born to this plateau.  But the shattering truth is, we are who we are and this jungle doesn't belong to us.

He mumbles in his sleep, shifting as though searching for something.  For me?  Sadly I close my eyes and when I reopen them I'm once again clearheaded.

I rise to my feet, allowing my fingers to fall away from his cheeks.  "It'll never be," I whisper before turning and walking away.

End Chapter Two

**Taya** and **Spirita**:  Did you get my reviews? (**Taya**: for Chapter 11.  **Spirita**: for Chapter 25).  I sent them, but I'm not sure if they went through because they haven't been listed under my Review History section in my account.


	5. Chapter Three

**Danny**:  I'm so sorry I missed you last time!  I must've submitted the chapter before receiving your review.  Yet, thank you so much.

**Taya**:  God, I just love his eyes.  _swoons_  I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

**KDC**:  You know that…I know that…now if only THEY could know it.  Lol.

**Keys**:  Brighten up your days?  It's that what you call 'momentarily upset'?

**ChosenOne**:  Ahh, what I can I say?  Oh, I know: YOU NUT!  Lol.  But you know I luv ya and your quirky ways.  Now, where's that chapter you're supposed to be sending me?

**Windsor**:  Yeah, most of these chapters will probably be short.  I hope that won't bother you!

**Amy**:  Maybe if you keep ranting…lol.  Nope.  I doubt that'll work.  Lol.

**Panda**:  I can relate to computer problems.  The blasted pieces of technological crap!  (Yet, I couldn't live without it. Lol.)

**Barbie**:  Questions, questions, questions…sorry, though, I have no answers! _insert big smile_  I just go with the flow!  Lol.

**Zeus**:  You're just so sweet.  Have a good day, too!

Chapter Three

Roxton's POV

Sometimes we make it harder than it is.  Well…_she_ typically creates this hurricane with what had once been a light sprinkling of rain.  I'm not even sure how she manages to take a perfectly good night and turn it into a battle of hearts verses walls.  Why can't she just relax in my arms, embrace the love I have to offer?  Instead, we trace our circle: filling the night with words we don't mean with the dark sides of our souls best buried in the past.

The past.

There's where we always turn away.  For the past she so desperately wants to let go is the one thing she holds closest to her heart.  And she rarely lets me see into the tomb of her memories.  On occasion, I have been able to melt her defenses.  Or, at least, she lowers the veil for a split, precious moment before running away.

I sigh and lean heavier against the wooden post as I gaze out into the exotic jungle.  Dusk is settling over the plateau, the musky rays of light bouncing off the tops of the trees.

Marguerite hasn't spoken a word to me since last night's recent bloodbath.  In fact, she ignores my presence as though I were simply another piece of boring, tattered furniture – if that.  I, on the other hand, am acutely aware of every breath she draws into her perfect mouth; every twitch of her delicate fingers; every sigh, whisper, and look.  It's driving me bloody crazy.

I clear my throat and shift my weight.  Veronica pauses mid-paint brush stroke and glances my way sympathetically before resuming the portrait.  Malone, the object of her drawing, frowns and sighs.  Of course, Veronica immediately scolds him for moving.  Finn laughs: unaware of the tension between Marguerite and I.  Either that or she just doesn't care.  She did, after all, live in a world where people for years had been cramped together in sewers.  I guess growing up like that one gets accustomed to the constant strain of silent bickering.

I heave tediously and pick a tiny piece of blue lint off my trousers.

Things are too quiet.

I sniff and turn my back to the sunset, off to retrieve my rifle.  Challenger intercepts, looking at me sternly.

"I'm just going to go for a walk," I reassure.

Challenger peers down at the tweezers and wire in his hands.  "It's late, John."

I smile as comfortingly as possible and place a hand on his shoulder.  Our dear friend as aged these last couple of years with worry and the constant exertion.  "I won't go far, George.  No worries."

"Oh just let him go," Marguerite sighs harshly.  At least she's finally acknowledging my existence.  "If he gets eaten by a dinosaur then it'll be his own bloody fault."  I catch the mutter she adds: "And who care if he does."

I glance around, noting that no one else heard the curse she had uttered under her breath.  "Why, Marguerite, you'd be greatly sorry if something did happen to me."

For a brief second she looks startled, obviously had not expected me to hear her final remark.  Yet, she quickly masks it with a look of boredom.  "I always mean what I say, Lord Roxton."

I bark a laugh of denial.  "The hell you do, Marguerite."

She leaps to her feet angrily.  "Rot in Hell," she snaps bitterly.  "And take your damn family with you!"

I close my eyes, finally realizing where her pain has been today.  When I reopen them, I gaze achingly at her, vainly trying to reach her.  Yet, she's a stone statue…a fragile one with torment rooted so deep she'll never be rid of it.  And there's nothing I can say.  Nothing.  So I tenderly whisper: "I love you, too" before strolling into the elevator and making my descent down onto the jungle floor.

End Chapter Three


	6. Chapter Four

**Taya**:  You expect me to reveal the end?  Lol.  I don't think so!  Anyway, writing melancholic stuff actually helps me go to sleep.  Weird, uh?

**Panda**:  She drives me crazy, too, but it's also one of those things I've got to love about her.  And Roxton's a big boy.  He can take care of himself…or can he?

**ChosenOne**:  Yeah, must be acting up.  Right.  And you're officially strange.  If this story helped cheered you up a bit from your depression then you've really got some issues.  Lol.  No, seriously, what's wrong?  Why don't you PM me a message on the board.  Well, that is, if you want.  I won't force you to tell me what's wrong, but I've got an ear willing to listen and a shoulder waiting in case someone needs to rest on it.

**Zeus**:  Thanks for stopping by!

**Amy**:  Your senses do not deceive you.  And yes, it wouldn't be a proper review from you unless ranting was involved.  Lol.

**Fab**:  Why thank you.  And, yes, this is the night after she touches him.  I'm going to get a little more into that in this chapter.  As always, thanks for reviewing!

-*-*-*-*-

Chapter Four

Marguerite's POV

I seethe, watching him disappear down the elevator.  Damn him.  Damn him for loving me so much it destroys the inner shield around my heart and nearly shatters the wall of calm and bitterness engraved on my face.  How can he do that?  How can reach inside my soul and capture my heart without me even realizing he's there?

I make a soft growl and burn the book in my hands with my piercing stare.  I sense the others keeping a cautious, worried eye on me and I ignore them, stomping away into the kitchen, slamming the book down onto the table.  Banging old, rusting pans, I furiously begin to make supper.

Last night we entangled ourselves in other bloody battle.  After I had gone off to bed, Roxton had crept into my room, daring to disturb my sleep with questions of my date.  We had tossed around a few harmless, typical bantering before the issue of the horrid map came into play.

And then there it was: the ugly, pitiless map was out in the open and demanding to be discussed.  I can't remember how it started, but we found ourselves arguing over it and everything it represented: London, facing my past, Roxton's estate and family…

I close my eyes, fighting against the guilt that rages against me.  I had told him I wanted to stay.  He had told me his duties tied him to London.  He had to go back if for nothing else than to restore his family's memory and finally do the honorable thing: take over his father's place.

I had asked him to chose: me or everything else.

I crack open an egg and then freeze.  What am I making?  I'm not hungry and I doubt the others are for we had eaten not half an hour ago.  Sighing, I leave the kitchen, not bothering to clean up.

I stalk back into the living space, noticing how everyone tries extra carefully to avoid looking my way.

And then a bloodcurdling scream pierces through into my heart and I race over to the railing and peer out into the vanishing daylight.  "Roxton," I shriek and then whirl around, bounding toward the elevator.

End Chapter Four


	7. Chapter Five

**ChosenOne**:  Hey, we've talked a lot since this review.  I hope everything's going ok now between you, your sisters, and all that jazz.  And, yes, you're now OFFICIALLY weird.  You must be considering that you, Jessie, and I are now the Nuthouse Gang.  Lol.

**Windsor **AND** Zeus**:  Thank you both so much!  

**Keys**:  I won't tell you whether or not this ends happily.  However, I will let you in on a little secret: in the last chapter, Marguerite will be with Roxton.

**Panda**:  Well, remember that cane he carried around?

**Jessie**:  I've never been in love, but from what I can tell of watching others, it is sheer Hell – even when the people involved don't realize it.  Love can truly be blinding.

**Taya**:  I love torturing him!  I think it's a sickness.  Lol.  Anyway, thank you so much for the compliments.

**Fab**:  Yeah, I've always gotten that impression, too.  Oh well.  Lol.

**Barbie**:  I love torture stories as long as everything works out in the end.

-*-*-*-*-

Chapter Five

Roxton's POV

I have lost my rifle and in my haste to retreat from the tree house I had forgotten my pistols.  Blood gushes from the wound where the raptor had taken a slash at me with his dagger-like claws.  I am sprawled on the forest floor, the hungry (or is it angry) dinosaur circles around me, seeming to mock my downfall and me.

Yes, raptor, you have taken down the mighty hunter.  Now what?  Will you eat me or torture me with this game?

From the corner of my eye I see something shifting through the tall weeds.  It must be more beasts coming to take a claim on the man who had killed so many of their kind.  I don't want to die, but I am prepared for death.

And then I see a flash of dark curls.  Marguerite.

She fires a shot into the raptor.  Screams.  Fires again.

I struggle to my feet and place a tight grip over the open gash on my upper arm.  It will need a multitude of stitches, but I decide to worry about that later.  Instead, I stumble towards her like a sailor fights his way towards the beacon in a storm.  She opens her arms and I collapse against her, my breathing shallow and scratchy.

She murmurs soothingly into my ear, but I can hear the fear and regret in her voice.  How can I tell this angel that I forgive her?  That I will cherish her for all time and eternity?  That I would rather face a thousand torturous deaths in order to have been graced with the stubborn, fiery, and infuriating woman who has taken me into her arms, saving me from myself?

The others have caught up to us.  Malone and Veronica try to take me, but Marguerite's grip is like steel.  They would have to pry me out of her cold, dead fingers.  Instead, leaning heavily against her with my life pouring onto her blouse and skirt, she half-drags-half-carries me into the elevator.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

"You…never…," I swallow, battling against the darkness that threatens to take this moment away from us, "had…to be…forgiven."

And then I black out.   

End Chapter Five


	8. Chapter Six

**KDC**:  I totally agree, but sometimes people realize it too late.

**Amy**:  Were you on vacation?  Anyway, how could Marguerite _not_ take care of him?

**ChosenOne**:  AHH!!  What if I am losing my touch?  Where would I go?  What would I do?  AHH!!

**Keys**:  Don't fall off!  I don't want to be sued.  Lol.

**Panda**:  I figured many would think along the lines of 'car accident'.  I'm glad I was able to toss in the little twist.

**JG**:  Thanks for the words of wisdom, big sis.  Lol.

**Windsor**:  I got to do what I've got to do.  Sorry.

**Taya**:  Congrats on getting your license.  And, yeah, I can see why you feel Marguerite deserved it.

**Barbie**:  I love torture?  What makes you say that?  _laughs insanely_

-*-*-*-

**~ * ~ EVERYONE** ~ * ~:  I have lost all inspiration for this story.  So, next up will be the insertion of the prologues and then the epilogue.  Thanks for reading!

Chapter Five

Marguerite's POV

The first few days had been brutal on both John's struggle to live and my wounded heart.  I watched from my ever-present perch at the corner of his bed, smoothing my cool hand over his clammy face.  He had lost a lot of blood, his life oozing out of him slowly and wretchedly.  His arm had been sliced open by the raptor's damning claws.  Yet, even worse, the wicked beast had pierced my beloved's leg with its razor teeth.

Now, though, he is moving about…agonizingly slow with a distinct wobble to his once graceful walk.  Yet, what hurts more than anything: he no longer smiles.  The Lord of Merriment and Laughter has disappeared from this tree house of doom.  A thick coat of silent tension lurks around every corner, waiting to swallow us up into the pits of damnation.

I keep a cautious eye on him as he moves – unbalanced – around the room.  I wonder what he is searching for.  His strength?  His hope?  His determination to live?

He barely glances my way and I choke on the hurricane of emotions.  His eyes are so empty.  Void of everything that had made him who he is.  Does he blame me?  Does he hate me?

I blame me.

I hate me.

But I love him.

I love him too much to allow him self to be engulfed in this wave of bitterness.  I will spare him future pain by eradicating myself from his life.  I know I will hurt him again.  I don't want to, but it will happen whether through my hands directly or through my unfinished business with the dark powers of London and Shanghai.  So, when he is healed enough, we will escape from this paradise prison and enter our pasts in the outside world.

And then I will leave him.

End Chapter Five


	9. Prologues

**Sierra**:  Ok, it's a promise.  I won't abandon _And the World Turned_.  Yet, I will continue to occasionally leave you for "X-men and other treacherous shows".

**Amy**:  If love were that simple, wouldn't we all be living in Heaven's bliss?  Anyway, I can't have them get together because I already wrote in the prologues that they were apart!  Sorry, buddy!

**JC**:  Do you honestly think that flattery can get you anywhere?  I don't think so, sis!  _insert smile_ Besides, have you forgotten about the prologues?

**Chosen**:  Right, I meant chapter six.  I called it Chapter Six in the title so why did I type Chapter Five on the page?  Silly me.  Anyway, what happened was simply this: I got bored with it.  And you're right: I'm probably doing too many stories at once.  Why did I even think I could juggle this many?  It's exhausting!

**Panda**:  You must be one of the very few willing to face the truth.  Many are asking me to not let Marguerite leave him, but they've obviously blocked out the two prologues.

**Keys**:  THANK YOU!  Thank you for being so understanding.  It was only going to be a one-shot, but I kept adding on for you guys.  _sigh_ I can only give so much.

**Taya**:  THANK YOU!  Marguerite, I think, really would be that way. 

-*-*-*-*-*-

INSERTION OF THE PROLOGUES ~ Just in case you don't remember (the epilogue will soon follow):

Roxton's POV:

When I'm walking these streets, I count my steps as I drag my feet.  The moonlight shines from its royal perch high in the dark, cloudless sky.  It's moments like these – right out of the blue—that I remember you.  Not that I could ever forget you.  No, you're always hovering somewhere nearby, but I usually deny you passage into my thoughts.

You see; you broke my heart.

Don't worry, though, because I'm healed now.  I don't lie awake at night anymore agonizing over you.  I have learned how to move on.  And now we're far apart.  In fact, for all I know, the seven seas and the stars of Heaven separate us.  I suppose it's better this way because if I were ever to bump into you then I may lose the control I've so carefully built around my tears.  It's not that I miss you: not tonight.  Not anymore.  But the tears would be more of a baptism: washing away the years of pain I know I would see reflecting from your eyes, the mirror image of my own pain.

I don't blame you for never writing.  And I hope you've never been hurt by not receiving a call.  I am curious, though.  Do you still have dreams?  Did they all come true?  Does it ever seem that you'll never survive?  Do you ever miss me the way I do when I remember you?

I round the corner just as the light mist of rain begins to chime against my hand crafted cane.  My limp is hardly noticeable these days for my posture is stiff and I shuffle my feet instead of taking regular steps.  My cane and I have fallen into a steady rhythm: click, swish, click, swish, click, swish…

I think you would be proud of me.  I've faced my demons and cast away my ghosts.  I've given up the past (if you can believe that).  I'm no longer controlled by guilt or anguish of what could've been.

Yet, still…

I pause halfway across the cobblestone road.  Slowly, ever so slowly, I turn and follow the streetlamps further and further away from town.  There's only one place I want to be.  I eventually reach the beach and kick off my shoes, my toes sinking into the cool, damp sand.

At the edge, the waves gently roll up over my ankles and then slide back.  I gaze out through the darkness, over the ocean that had taken you away.  It's been ten long years, but I still remember every curve and line of your face.  I'd asked you to stay, knowing you wouldn't.  I remember how you'd touched your soft hand to my face; your eyes glazed with unshed tears.  You'd whispered 'I'll remember' and then boarded the ship, vanishing from my life as though you never existed as more than a phantom in a dream.

I close my eyes as I bow my head.  I lied.  I do you miss you.  There's an ache seeded in my soul where you had once been.  Will you ever return?  Do you even miss these arms?  Ever subconsciously place your fingertips to your lips, remembering the feel of my kisses?

No.  You'd come crashing into my life, enchanted me under your spell, and then slipped away on a breeze.  And I know you'll never come back.

A desolate tear glides down, disappearing into the sea of raindrops.  I drop my cane and wade further away from shore.

As I duck my head under the waves, the last thing I remember is you.

Marguerite's POV:

I sailed away into a gray sky morning, watching as your forlorn figure drifted further and further away.  Well, that's not quite right.  I was the one drifting away: the cruise liner heading off towards the horizon, stealing me away from you.

No.  It wasn't the ship's fault.  _I_ abandoned you.  I left you feeling deserted and rejected, your eyes laced with heart-wrenching anguish even as you slowly lifted up your arm to give a tender, final farewell.  I cried then.  I cried when I saw your hand give that small, dismal wave.

I know you cried, too.  I saw your knees give out as you sank to the ground, dropping your cane as you brought your hands up to cover your tear-stricken cheeks.  It tore my heart apart.  I nearly leapt over the side, intent on swimming against the current…back to you.  Yet, I've never been one controlled by emotions.  So, I simply turned away…

But I did look back…

I still look back.

I sit on the shores of the beach gazing out over the rolling waves of whatever current ocean, sea, or lake I'm nearby; and think of you.  You see, I've kept my promise: I remember.  I remember how it was and who we were.  And then I watch as my tears join the river of regret.

You stole my world.  And now I'm just an imposter.  I pretend my way through life.  I guess I always have.  Yet, you saw through the mask of deception, ridicule, and malicious manipulation.  You saw into my heart; the heart I shielded from the world; the heart no one knew was there, hidden beneath my callous fascia; the heart you eventually snuck in and captured in your warm embrace.

None of that matters now, though.  Ten long years changes a person.  Yet, I suppose, it doesn't necessarily change one's soul.  For I still am who I am, though, different.  Does that make sense?

I rise myself to my feet, dusting off the sand that has clung to my skirt.  I take one final, longing stare at the waves and then turn and walk away.

I always walk away.

Onto the Epilogue… 


	10. Epilogue

**Keys**:  Yeah, I think it was selective-memory loss.  Anyway, people will be _cough_ over this.  Oh, and who knows?  Maybe another _X-files_ fic isn't too far away…

Thanks **everyone** for sticking it to the end.

-*-*-*-*-*-

Epilogue

Marguerite's POV

I could no longer stay away.  That evening I used my connections and a large portion of my gold to charter a helicopter to fly me home to England.  Home to John.

As I set foot on the old, familiar soil I feel choked and shaky.  What if he never forgave me for leaving him abandoned on the shores of the Atlantic?  I know he never married for I had kept loose taps on him over the years.  I know, however, that he had taken over his father's estate, but didn't live in the huge, empty manor.  Instead, he bought a lovely villa in the small town where I had left him all those years ago.  Did he know deep down that I would eventually return?  Was he waiting for me?

No.  I refuse to fall into hope for it will only crush me in the end.  Fear the worst so that I will not be disappointed has always been my stern motto through life.

I hitch a cab to his home.  The streets are wet and I slip as I race through the gate and up the stone walkway to his front door.

Taking a large inhale of the musky ocean air, I knock and wait anxiously.

The red door slowly swings open and an aging woman peers worriedly out.  Her silver hair shimmers in the early dawn's morning light.  She narrows her eyes suspiciously before they widen in surprise.  "Marguerite," she gasps.

"You…you know me?"

"Why, of course I do, child.  John pretends to ignore yer memory, but I've seen yer picture.  I's sorry to tell ya he ain't here, child.  The man took one of his walks last night.  He's about…probably fell asleep at the beach again, I recon."

He talks night walks to the beach and falls asleep?  I can imagine my love curled up on the sand, shivering against the frigid breeze.  It is proof that he has been waiting for me all these years.

"If ya find him, bring him home, lass.  The poor man must be chilled to the bone."

I nod, turning to race down the cobblestone streets toward the beach.  The day is not too bad, surprisingly pleasant.  But the night must've been cold and sleeping out on the beach…he can easily catch pneumonia.

It seems so unreal as I finally make it, running as fast as a late-forties-something woman can possibly run through mud.  I scan my eyes over the water's edge.  Where is he?

And then I see something floating against one of the piers.  My heart clenches in my throat and I rush over.

It's a body.

I quickly wade my way over, noticing that the shirt had gotten caught on one of the hooks along the pier's side.  I disentangle the body and turn it over.

Then I scream.

I yank him out of the water, dragging him up onto the wet sand.

Oh dear God. 

Wrecked with sobs, I crumple over his body, shaking from sorrow and rage.  The sun reflects off the water droplets glistening on our skin and I can't help but despise the bright and warm day.  I'd never imagined Lord John Roxton's death, but now being faced with it: I want the skies to turn dark and angry.  I want the sun to shield itself away in mourning.  I want the Heavens to weep and the angels to collapse under their sorrow.  But, most of all, I want him alive.

Yet, I had come too late to save him from the suffering I had caused him.  So now all I can do is hold his lifeless body in my arms and feel the wretched twist of regret piercing my heart.  And all that's left are my memories: the betrayals, the lies, the smiles, the honesties, the kisses, the pain…

And I remember…

End Story

Lucky you, it's over!


End file.
